


Covers

by HooperMolly



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Fluff, Gen, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HooperMolly/pseuds/HooperMolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Sam take a night off from their search to relax with Natasha and Clint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covers

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. I left Cap 2 with a massive resurgence of my Steve and Natasha friendship feelings and somehow this happened between the hours of midnight and 5am the following night. This is just fluff. Pointless fluff.

It’s just over two months into their search for Bucky that they run into Romanoff. At first they didn’t recognise her, huddled into the chest of a man in a purple hoody and reflective sunglasses, his arm draped casually over her shoulders. Steve apologised profusely after bumping into her, spilling the contents of her handbag all over the floor of the mall. It wasn’t until he looked into her eyes while handing back the hastily picked up bits and pieces that he realised who was in front of him.

“Rooftop carpark. 10 minutes. NRB W84. Black Ford.” She murmured under her breath, brushing stray blonde hairs from her face. Blue eyes stared back at Steve rather than the usual green. It was no wonder he hadn’t recognised her. 

“Thank you so much.” She gushed, straightening up and slinging her bag back over her shoulder. Steve stared after her until Sam nudged him.

“What was that about?” Sam queried as Steve tore his eyes away from the two retreating figures.

“We need to get to the rooftop carpark.”

It wasn’t hard to find the Ford. Romanoff had scored the closest spot to the entrance. She was already waiting by the car, Purple Hoody settled in the front passenger seat.

“You’re early.” She drawled, her lips twisting into a playful half smile.

“So are you.” Steve replied lightly.

“Get in. Might be a bit of a squeeze but I’m sure we’ll manage. You didn’t drive did you?” Natasha asked, opening the door and waiting for Steve and Sam to slide into the back seat.

“No. Caught the bus.” Sam answered as Natasha climbed into the car. No one commented on the hilarity of four fully grown adults squishing themselves into a two door compact sports car.

“Where are you staying? You got stuff to pick up or can it stay where it is?” She asked, starting the car, throwing it into reverse and backing out of the spot.

“Why? You taking us somewhere?” Steve counters, trying to shift so that his knees weren’t pressing into the back of Purple Hoody’s seat.

“Well Clint and I don’t have anything to do tonight and we thought you might like to hang out with us. You know? Book a hotel, be uncomfortably domestic, forget about the rest of the world.” Natasha replied, as casually as if they were a couple of college students on break.

“Clint? As in Barton?” Sam inquired, leaning forward slightly.

“Guilty as charged.” Purple Hoody said, taking off his glasses and turning to face the back seat.

“Hello Cap.” He added, giving Steve a curt nod.

“It’s been a while. Good to see you Clint.” Steve replied warmly.

“You too. I take it you’re the Falcon that Tasha’s told me about.” Clint said, looking at Sam.

“Sam Wilson. It’s a pleasure to meet you. That was some good work you did in New York.” Sam responded genially.

“Thanks. I’ve heard all about you’re part in the takedown of SHIELD. It’s thanks to you I’ve still got my best friend and the Big Friendly Giant. I’d love to be able to return the favour one day.”

“Don’t use that term.” Natasha chided, turning a corner sharply and forcing Clint to face the front or risk whiplash.

“What? ‘Big Friendly Giant’?” Clint queried, raising an eyebrow.

“No. ‘Best friend’.” Natasha corrected him, making a big show of shuddering violently.

“I’d be honoured to fly with you.” Sam said, smiling broadly.

“You’ve been spending too much time with the Cap. You’re starting to sound like him.” Natasha said wryly.

“Is that such a bad thing?” Steve asked, breaking into a wide grin.

“I never said it was bad.” Natasha responded, a playful smile returning to her face.

“You never answered my question about belongings.” She added.

“Just a bag each at the Hostelling.” Steve replied, pausing a moment before adding, “Sorry Clint but do you mind moving your seat forward. I’m losing feeling in my legs.”

“Not a problem Cap.” Clint responded, sliding forward a few inches.

“Hostelling? You’re staying at a backpackers?” Natasha asked, sounding surprised.

“We’re Vets, Natasha. As long as we’re not getting rained on, we’re good.” Sam answered.

“People are always coming and going at all hours, no one looks too hard at the guy that looks a lot like he might be Captain America because they expect him to be staying in a hotel somewhere.” Steve explained, somewhat unnecessarily. Natasha was probably just teasing. After all, she was the one that had known how to hide in plain sight when they were both fleeing SHIELD.

Once Natasha pulled up outside the backpackers there was brief argument as to whether Clint should run in and grab the bags or if they should let Steve or Sam out from the back seat. It ended with Steve giving Natasha their room number and a description of the bags so that she could duck in.

There is a slight bit of Tetris so that she can fit them in the trunk along with her and Clint’s things but eventually she managed to get the trunk shut. 

“What ID’s you boys using?” She asked, getting back into the car with a small box clutched in her hands.

Steve and Sam exchanged glances.

“Sam’s been using his own. I’ve managed to avoid it so far since he’s been paying for all the big things.” Steve replied sheepishly.

“Okay, that’s terrible. You two are terrible at his.” Natasha said, opening the box and rifling through it.

“Here.” She says, handing them both a license and a passport.

“James Roberts.” Steve said slowly, reading the name of the license that declared him to be a resident of Maryland.

“Apparently I’m Simon Williams.” Sam said, examining his. 

“Wait, I’m Canadian? That’s not fair, why does he get to be American and I’ve got to be Canadian.” He protested after glancing at his passport.

“You’ll be fine.” Natasha told him dismissively. The next twenty minutes were occupied by Steve and Sam complimenting the quality of their ID’s and making up backstories for themselves that kept getting shot down by Clint who ultimately gave in and filled them in on the actual histories that existed for the covers.

“I can’t believe you made us covers.” Steve said, as Natasha pulls up in front an elegant but simple looking hotel.

“They’re not as solid as mine or Clint’s but they’ll hold up to an intermediate level of scrutiny. Better than nothing.” Natasha replied breezily, as though she’d done something effortless. For a few moments Steve thought about all the times he protected Natasha on the front line, literally shielding her from fire and bullets. He might have a slight advantage on the battlefield (and only slight, he knows that she’d still win 4 out of 10 times in a sparring match) but he’s hopelessly outmatched when it comes to this sort of thing. Yet she had his back here and now. Even though they went their separate ways she still thought about him and took precautions, just in case. It touched him more than he’d care to admit.

“Thank you.” He said as Clint gets out of the car, pushing the seat forward so Steve and Sam could get out.

“You’re welcome.” Natasha said, her tone warm and sincere. They unload their bags from the trunk and carry them into the lobby. Natasha strode over to the reception desk, setting her bags down on the floor and flashing the man behind the desk with a flirtatious grin.

“Hello Ma’am. How can I help you?” The man queried, eyes determinedly avoiding Natasha’s chest as Clint sidled up beside her and slipped a hand around her waist.

“Hi Andy -” She said, reading his nametag, “We were wondering if you had a room for four people?” 

“Sure, I’ll check that for you.” Andy replied, typing away at the computer in front of him. After half a minute he looked back up at Natasha, frowning.

“I’m afraid we don’t have any of our four person rooms available. We can do two adjoining rooms as long as you’re okay with one bed in each.” He informed her, glancing apprehensively at Steve and Sam, obviously worried that he might be making assumptions. Natasha turned her head.

“Jim honey, you and Simon share a bed, don’t you?” She called across the lobby. Steve dropped his bag, red tinging his cheeks.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. That we do.” He stumbled over his words.

“It’s the 21st Century sweetheart, no one’s judging you.” Natasha said sweetly before turning back to Andy.

“Our parents were highly conservative. He’s never quite got over them rejecting him when he came out.” She told him. Andy nodded knowingly.

“I understand. My parents never took too kindly to me coming out. It can be a real struggle.” Andy sympathised. They bond over the homophobic parents that Natasha never had while Andy confirmed their booking and took their deposit. 

“Okay, that’s all sorted. You’ll just need to check out before 10am on the day of departure and pay the remainder of your fees. I hope you have a pleasant stay Naomi.” Andy said politely. Natasha thanked him and took the keys. She lead the boys to the elevator and once they were all in Clint punched in the button for the fifth floor. 

“That was some blush there, Jim.” Natasha started teasing as soon as the doors closed.

“You put me on the spot.” Steve replied defensively.

“You were positively squirming. It was very endearing.” Natasha said, gazing up at him. Her eyes glinted with mirth.

“You ashamed for people to think you’re sharing a bed with me?” Sam asked, his tone as playful as Natasha’s.

“What? No! Come on, people have been thinking we’re together for the eight weeks. I haven’t complained once.” Steve protested.

“Enough’s enough guys.” Clint said as the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open.

“Thank you.” Steve says, pleased that there was at least one person who wasn’t going to mock him mercilessly.

“It’s not Jim’s fault he’s a stuffy old man with the romantic values of the middle of last century. He’d probably blush if they knew he was sharing a bed with anyone.” Clint continued, breaking into mischievous grin.

“No! Not you too! I trusted you.” Steve groaned dramatically.

“Fool!” Clint cried, just as theatrically.

“I know who the fool is.” Natasha said, glancing sideways at Clint. He clutched at his chest, looking hurt. “Ouch!”

Before they settled into their rooms, Natasha and Clint swept them for bugs. It was unlikely that they would find anything, since they had chosen the hotel on a whim, but they’d learned a long time ago that a little caution went a long way. Once they gave them the all clear, they stowed their bags away before meeting in Clint and Natasha’s apartment.

Clint and Natasha gave the boys a very brief and very vague rundown of what they’d been doing for the last two months. It seemed that Natasha had spent the first month alone, checking in with non-SHIELD assets of hers and raiding her hidden caches across the world. Then Barton had joined her, the pair setting about creating a new network of contacts and establishing new covers. Most of them weren’t ready for serious use, but Naomi Roberts (who was the younger sister of James as it happened, which would be easy to buy now that Natasha had dyed her hair and wore contacts) and Frank Byrd were secure.

“Byrd?” Steve repeated when Clint told them what cover he was using.

“What’s the point of making up a name if you can’t have fun doing it?” Clint replied, shrugging.

“How’s the soldier search going?” Natasha asked. Steve sighed heavily.

“His movements are so erratic, we can’t predict it. We’ll lose his trail for days and it’ll seem certain that he’s gone but then we’ll stumble on him with no warning.” He told her.

“As far as we can tell he has no plan. He’s just running, probably doesn’t even know what from.” Sam added.

“We came face to face with him once. He looked so...confused. Like he was living in a dream. I think he was afraid.” Steve said hesitantly, his own pain evident in his voice.

“I can understand that.” Natasha said quietly. Clint murmured in agreement. It’s subdued for a while after that, Steve dwelling on the tortured existence of his best and oldest friend while Natasha compartmentalised and Clint tried to avoid reliving his worst memories. It ended when Sam picked up the room service menu and suggested they order pizza.

In the end they get six pizzas. Steve ordered two veggie lovers, Sam and Clint chose to share a 5 cheese and a mushroom with extra anchovies, Natasha opted for a meat lovers and they got a garlic pizza to share. Clint was the only one who bothered with a plate, cutting up his pizza with a knife and fork.

“I don’t like the greasy feeling on my hands.” He insisted, no matter how much the others taunted him.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re weird, Clinton Barton?” Natasha asked between bites.

“Yes. You. Constantly.” Clint fired back, stabbing at the strands of cheese with his knife with little success. Once pizza had been consumed - Steve had eaten his own two pizzas, half the garlic pizza, half of Natasha’s meatlovers that she couldn’t finish and the final slice of the 5 cheese - they settled in front of the tv to watch a movie. Natasha gratefully removed her contacts first.

“What do you want to watch Cap? Something new, something old?” Natasha asked, grabbing the remote seeing what was on the movie channels. 

“I don’t mind, so long as it’s good.” Steve replied, stretching his legs out and reclining against the soft back of the sofa. Ten minutes later and several vicious arguments for and against Alien, Jaws, Psycho, and every Indiana Jones film but Crystal Skull, they ended up agreeing on Jurassic Park.

Half an hour into the film Natasha had made herself comfortable, resting her head in Clint’s lap while her feet sprawled over Steve’s thighs. She was wearing Clint’s hoody, leaving him in a purple t-shirt.

“Are all your clothes purple?” Sam had asked.

“Not all of them. I think I have an orange t-shirt.” Clint had replied, completely deadpan.

Sam had ended up in an arm chair, one leg underneath him. It gave the distinct impression that he was about to leap out of his chair at any moment. When Jurassic Park finished there was another lively debate about what to watch next. It ended abruptly when Natasha changed the channel to one where Some Like It Hot was just starting them threw the remote across the room. No one could be bothered going to retrieve it, so as she’d planned Natasha got her way. By the time the credits played and even though he’d laughed frequently throughout the film, Steve’s eyes were drooping. Natasha nudged him with her foot.

“Steve.” He didn’t respond.

“Steve.” She repeated, nudging him harder.

“What?” He mumbled blearily.

“Go to bed, Cap.”

“Mmhmm. Okay.” He replied, before not moving and letting his eyes flutter closed. 

“Now. I am NOT carrying you to bed Steven Rogers.” She ordered, moving her legs so that he could stand.

“Oh no, please fall asleep here. I want to see her try.” Clint pleaded.

“I am very tempted, but I fear it might be damaging to my health.” Steve murmured, staggering to his feet.

“Goodnight Natasha. Clint. Sam.” He gave them each a little wave in turn then grabbed the key to the other room. 

“Anyone else ready for bed yet?” Sam asked, looking over at the couch.

“Fuck no, let’s watch Mean Girls.” 

Once Mean Girls had concluded they bid each other good night, Sam disappearing next door leaving Clint and Natasha to settle into their bed. Steve was fast asleep when Sam entered their little room, curled in on himself on one side of the king sized double bed. Sam changed into the t-shirt and shorts he slept in and crawled into bed. He fell asleep not long after.

He was the first to wake up, the sun barely rising before he was up and about. He knocked next door and Clint opened it almost immediately, already fully dressed. 

“And I thought I didn’t sleep much.” Sam said, stepping inside. By the time Natasha woke up half an hour later, the boys had ordered themselves breakfast. She was on her second coffee when Steve walked in, still wearing his own sleep shirt and boxers.

“Are those Captain America boxer shorts?” She asked, amused.

“Oh. Yes. No one expects Captain America to wear Captain America merchandise. It makes people second guess themselves if they start to suspect who I am. Am I really Steve Rogers, or am I just a real big fan who tries to look like him?” He answered, picking up the room service menu and glancing at the breakfast items.

“What are you two eating?” He asked, looking over at Clint and Sam.

“Sardines on toast.” Sam replied.

“They’ve been bonding over their mutual love of fish.” Natasha explained, gazing over at the pair with fond bemusement.

“You know what they say?” Steve asked. Natasha her head.

“No. Don’t you dare.” She warned, well aware of what he was planning to say.

“Birds of a feather flock together.” Steve broke into a beaming grin.

“I hate you.” She grumbled, as Steve picked up the phone. Still grinning he placed his order. The moment he hung up the phone Natasha lunged for him, getting him in a headlock before he could react.

“How many times are you going to get the drop on me?” Steve asked, laughing as he tried to pry himself free of Natasha’s grip.

“Every time. Just ask Clint.” She replied cooly, not sounding distracted in the slightest in spite of her exertions.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Clint said. After a few minutes Natasha got bored and let Steve go. Both knew that if this was a real fight he would have escaped her hold in a matter of seconds. 

It was another quarter of an hour before Steve’s breakfast showed up. As he ate they discussed their plans for the day. Steve was keen to move on and get back to the search for Bucky but Clint wanted to go for a swim and Natasha convinced him to stay until after lunch. Sam didn’t have any trunks but Clint, for reasons only known to Clint, had two pairs with him.

“I like to train in the pool,” was the only explanation that he offered. As it turned out, birds of a feather also wear the same size trunks. The four of them changed and headed down to the third floor where the pool was.

“Strange, I had you pegged for a bikini girl.” Sam said when he saw Natasha’s one piece swimsuit. Steve flashed back to Natasha showing him the scar that Bucky gave her and cringed. He sensed Clint stiffen. But if Natasha was offended or hurt she didn’t show it.

“Bikini tops have a remarkable habit of coming undone while I’m swimming. I prefer not to risk it.” She replied as they exited the elevator. They each claimed a lounge chair, draping their towels over them. Clint wasted no time, stepping into the pool and submerging himself. Sam followed shortly after, diving into the water with only the barest hint of a splash.

“Hey Jim! What do you call it when Simon and Frank are in the pool together?” Natasha called to Steve as he moved to join them, using their cover names now they were in public. Steve hesitated.

“I don’t know, Naomi.” She waited, just a second, to build the tension.

“A bird bath.”

Steve stared at her for a moment, absorbing the pun. Then, without warning or any visible reaction, he marched over and picked her up, carrying her to the edge of the pool and throwing her in. Natasha’s limbs flailed as she sliced through the air, landing near the very centre of the pool. Her head emerged a second later, laughing gaily. Steve stepped into the pool, the water cool but not uncomfortably so.

For an hour they mucked around, dunking each other and racing from one side to the other. Steve won every time, because as well as being naturally faster he also had a higher lung capacity and didn’t need to breathe during any single lap. Steve was sad when it came to an end and lunch was a somber affair, nearly silent as they all acknowledged that the fun was over.

“If you need anything, place a coded message in the classifieds. We use the New York Times. Alternatively, call Stark Industries and ask to speak to Pepper Potts. Say that Borglum sent you. They’ll put you through, no questions asked. She’ll have my current contact details.” Natasha instructed them.

“What if you need to contact us?” Sam asked.

“Check the classifieds. Otherwise, I’ll find you.” She answered.

“How?” 

Natasha just smiled.

Packing took all of two minutes, then it was down to the lobby to wait for the taxi that they had called for. 

“I guess this is goodbye for now, then.” Steve said. Natasha nodded.

“For now.” She agreed.

“Good luck with whatever it is you’re doing.” He said, drawing Natasha into the hug that he knew she wouldn’t initiate. Natasha Romanoff was perfectly okay with hugs, she just never made the first move unless it was part of an op.

“Same to you. I hope you find him soon.” She murmured, give him an encouraging smile.

“Nice seeing you again Simon.” She said, offering a hand to Sam.

“You too.” 

“Until the next time, Jim. Simon.” Clint said, as a taxi pulled up in the hotel drive.

“It’s been a pleasure Frank.” Steve replied, smiling as Clint made a small saluting gesture. Then they were putting bags into the trunk of the taxi and climbing into the seats. Steve turned to wave a final goodbye but Clint and Natasha had already gone.

“Where am I taking you, gentlemen?” The driver prompted when neither Steve nor Sam gave him directions.

“The airport, please.” Steve requested. The driver nodded and they moved off. Steve had talked it over with Sam at great length over the last week. Brooklyn had been a dead end, they hadn’t found him in any of the places that Steve remembered visiting with Bucky during their youth. There was one place left to try. That’s why they were going to the airport. They were going to board a plane to Indiana. It was time to try Shelbyville.


End file.
